


He's My Kid

by jennylarner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker, One Big Happy Family, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter goes missing, Protective Avengers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Reunions, Rogues Return, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, rogues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennylarner/pseuds/jennylarner
Summary: “Rhodey.” Tony’s voice breaks. “Rhodey they took my kid.”There are tears on Rhodey’s cheeks. “I know Tony, I know.” He whispers, his own voice trembling with the effort of staying calm. He had to stay calm, for Tony. “But we’re going to get him back.” He placed a hand over the phone. Tony stares down at it. “Do you want me to do it?”Tony shakes his head. “No.” He murmurs. “No. I need to do it.”...When Peter goes missing and Tony can't find him, he knows who he needs to call. Post-Civil War. Eventual reunion of Tony and the Rogues.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 995





	He's My Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review, it makes my day! This is set post-civil war (obviously), and pre-anything else.

“Tony you have to breathe.”

“Get away from me –”

“Tony come on man, remember your exercises –”

“ _Get away from me._ ” Tony snarls. He pushes past Rhodey, grasping onto tables and random mechanical machinery as he stumbles towards his desk, pulling up hologram after hologram after hologram. “F.R.I.D.A.Y check surveillance –”

“I am surveying all video and photographic input from within one mile of Mr Parker’s home, his school, and the Tower, within the last twenty-four hours.” There was a short pause from the AI. “I have not been able to locate Mr Parker as of yet.”

“Increase it to three miles. And add Delmar’s, and that Ted kid’s house to the list of locations. And any skyscrapers the kid usually sits on during his patrols. Try to link into Karen, see if he was patrolling yesterday or early this morning.” Tony lets out a shaking breath, feeling as though his lungs may collapse at any moment. If the pain in his heart is anything to go by, or the pounding in his head, he just might pass out first. “Find him. Search every goddamn crevice of his city just _find him_. Report any suspicious activity, anything unusual, anything at _all_ you tell me.”

“Yes Boss. Karen is offline. She has not been online for two days.”

“Tony –”

“Call Happy and tell him that he needs to drop whatever the fuck he’s doing and go pick May Parker up. Bring her here.” Tony keeps going, his mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour. He doesn’t have time for Rhodey right now. “Call Ed Leeds and Michelle Jones again and question when they last saw Peter, anything the kid may have said, any plans.”

“Tony –”

“If Karen’s been offline for two days that means he wasn’t in the suit when… when whatever has happened, happened. If he’s been attacked or hurt then he was attacked as _Peter_. He might not have fought back with his full strength –”

“ _Tony stop –”_

Rhodey lurches forward and tries to grab at Tony’s shaking hands, but Tony flinches backwards and looks at his best friend with all the hatred he can muster. They stare at one another for a moment, and slowly the hatred dissolves into panic and desperation. “Rhodey… Rhodey they took the kid. They took the kid and I don’t know where.”

“We don’t know if anyone has taken him.” Rhodey says calmly, even though his own heart is beating at a million miles an hour. Peter was a kind, smart, well-mannered kid, and Rhodey knew that the little genius meant the whole entire world to Tony. He’d just started calling Rhodey ‘Uncle’. “We don’t know anything apart from what May has told us. Which is what?”

“Don’t…”

“Say it, Tony, tell me what we know. You need to think it through.”

Tony collapses onto a stool, his head in his hands. “May has been on an overnight shift. She saw Peter before he went school yesterday morning, he was in a good mood, nothing seemed unusual. He left and she went to the hospital. Her shift began at eight am. Peter replied to her messages in the morning, his final message being at one pm yesterday afternoon. May found it odd but assumed he was busy on a patrol last night or with his friends. She returned home at ten am this morning, worried, because he still hadn’t replied. His bed had not been slept in and she couldn’t find his backpack which meant to never made it back from school. Then she called me, but he hasn’t been here. His school gets out at four pm in the afternoon which means sometime after then –”

“Okay, that’s it, that’s all we know for certain.” Rhodey says quietly. He’s still holding on to Tony’s hands. They shake under his palms, scrapping manically at the jeans the man was wearing. “Now think Tony, what are all the logical reasons Peter wouldn’t make it home from school?”

Tony shudders, his stomach threatening to expel his lunch at the thought, but is cut off by a methodical voice from overheard. “Boss, Happy is retrieving May Parker from her home as we speak. Both Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones have responded to say Peter left school at six pm yesterday evening, after decathlon practice. He walked with Ned some of the way home before they went their separate ways. Peter did not attend school today. I will begin searching for the footage of Peter walking home from school now, Mr Leeds has informed me of which street they separated on.”

“Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Rhodey answers. He tightens his grip on Tony. The engineer has raised his hands to cup around his chin and mouth and is staring with blank eyes at the floor. “We’ll find him Tony, we’ll find him.”

…

Tony had watched the footage at least twenty-six times before Pepper hesitantly knocked on the door of the lab, startling Tony so badly he pounced from his chair and held out one of his hands towards her – an impulse as a result of wearing his repulsors so often. Seeing that it was Pepper, he collapses back down into his seat and continues to watch the screen without a word.

Rhodey walks over to the CEO, pulling her into the corner of the room. “Nothing?” She asks quietly, not taking her eyes of Tony. His face was red and his eyes were puffy. His entire body was shaking like a leaf, but he never once takes his gaze off the hologram. When the footage ended, he instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y to play it again.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” Rhodey starts, pushing past the lump in his throat. Watching his closest and oldest friend break apart at the first sight of what F.R.I.D.A.Y had found was more painful than anything he had ever experienced. “She can’t find anything once they leave the city. No clues on the car, no visual of the men.”

Pepper brushes away the tears on her cheeks. They watch the video playing on Tony’s holographic screens, as three men pull Peter into a darkened alley. Peter tries to resist, but was clearly trying to not use his proper strength until he understood the situation better. His phone is thrown down and kicked into a gutter. There is a scuffle at the edge of the screen, the security camera not letting them see exactly what was happening, but they see the flick of a cloth and the edge of Peter’s legs slumping to the floor.

“So they drugged him.” Pepper whispers, watching as the footage shows a black car with tinted windows and no license plate back into the alley, and after a minute, they watch it speed off into the streets of the city. Tony instructs the AI to play it again. “But we don’t have any idea who these people are?”

“Spiderman has made himself a few enemies since he started appearing around Queens, but no one big enough to try something like this. Not that we know of.” Rhodey says. “Happy found the Spiderman suit at their flat, he didn’t have it with him, so it’s not that they took him to get the tech. They… they wanted him.”

Pepper squeezes her eyes shut. “So what’s the next step?”

“I’m about to fly out and follow the beaten track we lost the footage on, see if it leads anywhere. We… We don’t have much to go on Pepper.” Rhodey motions back at Tony. “He’s going to need you.”

“When doesn’t he?” Pepper whispers with a sad smile, even as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “Go. Fly out. Find whatever you can. I’ll take care of Tony.”

…

It had been two days. May was going out of her mind, walking the floors and crying constantly, tearing tissue to shreds and leaving a trail of it in her wake. Pepper was trying to keep the other woman together, trying to keep her hopeful. Rhodey was being crushed under the guilt of not being able to find anything down the beaten track the car had headed down.

And Tony…

Tony spent the past twenty-four hours in a blur, in one of two ways. The first was a state of total manic, following a new idea or a new lead, screaming at Rhodey when he returned with no new information before heading out himself. He would eventually return, shouting, no Peter in sight, and end up collapsing onto the living room floor (having blasted straight through the window) and hyperventilating for thirty minutes.

But, perhaps even worse than the mania, was the numbness.

When the mania ended, Pepper and Rhodey would watch over the genius as he sat and silently stared at the wall, tears tracking down his cheeks. He didn’t sob, he didn’t break apart like he had the first time the footage of Peter being taken had played. He just covered his face with his hands and shut down. He would not take the food offered to him, he wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t _anything_.

And he rotated between these two singular states of being for forty-eight hours. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy would exchange quiet murmurs in the corner of the room, exchanging helpless ideas on how they could help, but everything was useless.

They simply watched, until after a while, Tony got up, stretched his back, and took a deep breath.

“Hey Tony.” Pepper says, trying to smile as Tony turned a dead stare on her. “You need anything?”

They were in the lab. Tony only stared at them before shaking his head and making his way across the room. He came to stop at a randomly placed desk, fingers brushing against the handle of a drawer. They could see his chest shaking, the beginnings of another panic attack. Pepper went to step forwards but Rhodey grabbed her arm and held her back. “Tony?” He asks softly. “What are you thinking?”

Tony’s teeth audibly grit together. His entire jaw tenses as he pulls open the drawer with such a harshness that there was a clicking of metal on metal, the sure sign that something was broken. Tony glares into the drawer, and whatever was there, for a long moment. His three friends waited patiently, hanging back, giving him the space he was silently asking for.

Until Tony pulled out a phone. An old, non-descript, grey burner phone.

“Tony –” Rhodey starts forward immediately. He had seen that phone before. Had seen it the first time he had come to the lab after the fight in Germany, the first time Tony had fitted him for his new leg braces. He’d seen Tony throw that phone across the room, and then shove it into that very drawer, yelling about how he would never, ever, _ever_ ask for the help of people that chose to betray him. “Are you sure –”

“They took my kid.”

Rhodey stops dead in his tracks. Pepper and Happy stand frozen behind him, Happy with his arm holding Pepper up. Tony turns to them, and Rhodey’s heart shatters.

Tony is trembling. His arms and hands are visibly quivering, but he’s gripping the phone between his palms with whatever strength he has remaining. He’s drawing in ragged breaths, a clear sign of another panic attack in full swing, and his chest is pulling _in, out, in, out_ with the pressure of it. His hair is hanging over his swollen eyes. His chin is wobbling as tears continue to trace down his cheeks.

He was a mess. And who could blame him.

Rhodey steps forward, grabbing Tony’s arms. The phone between them.

 _“Rhodey.”_ Tony’s voice breaks. “ _Rhodey they took my kid.”_

There are tears on Rhodey’s cheeks. “I know Tony, I know.” He whispers, his own voice trembling with the effort of staying calm. He had to stay calm, for Tony. “But we’re going to get him back.” He placed a hand over the phone. Tony stares down at it. “Do you want me to do it?”

Tony shakes his head. “No.” He murmurs. “No. I need to do it.”

“Tones –”

“I’ll meet you in the living room in twenty minutes.” Tony looks up at his friend. There is a desperate kind of terror in his eye, the kind of terror a parent feels when their child is missing, and nowhere to be found. “He’s… I just need to do it, Rhodey. I need to. He’s _my_ kid. I need to be the one.”

Rhodey pinches his lips together. He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Tony out of this. “Okay.” He agrees. “Twenty minutes. And then I’m coming back down.”

Tony nods. “Thank you.”

Rhodey yanks at the engineer’s t-shirt until the other man falls against his chest, hugging him tightly. “Take ten deep breaths before pressing the call button.” He says. He feels Tony smile, minutely, against his shoulder. “And don’t stay on the phone a second longer than you have to, or tell them a single thing you don’t need to.”

“Ever the therapist.”

…

Tony’s leg was jumping up and down. It had already been ten minutes since the others had left the lab. He knew he had to do this. Knew it was the next, logical step, after they were unable to find anything. After F.R.I.D.A.Y’s lead ended in dead ends. There was a blaring in his head. A tightness in his chest. He could barely breathe. Was there something on his shoulders, pushing him towards the ground? It felt like there was.

Pressing the call button took another three minutes, and it was three minutes spent silently screaming at himself, challenging himself, daring himself to press it, press it, _just press it._ Three minutes reminding himself of why he was calling the one goddam number he had promised he would never, ever call.

_For Peter. For Peter. For Peter._

_It’s for Peter._

He shoved his finger down onto the screen. The dial tone rang. He took the deep breaths Rhodey had told him to take. The tone rang for a fourth time, a fifth, a sixth –

“Stark?”

Tony inhales sharply at the voice he hasn’t heard in almost a year, not since Siberia, and almost chokes on the cold air. His eyes are slipping closed as he quietly replies. “Rogers.”

“What’s the situation?” Always the war Captain.

“I… I…” Tony is struggling not to break down. There’s quiet on the other end of the call.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice softens. Tony hates him for a moment. “What happened?”

“I need yo– I need the rogues to help with something.” Tony manages to strangle the words out of his throat, his spare hand pulling at his hair, his leg jumping more than ever. “You owe me, Rogers. And you know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t – doesn’t matter for fuck’s sake I just I need – I need –“

“Tony you gotta take a breath.”

“ _Don’t tell me to take a breath.”_

There’s silence. Tony’s harsh gasps might be muffling any other sound, but he’s sure there isn’t any noise from the other side. Until another voice replaces the Captain’s. “Tony?”

He scoffs, muttering, “Romanoff.” There are tears on his cheeks again. He’s not sure if there has been a moment, certainly not more than a minute long, in the past forty-eight hours where there hasn’t been a tear in his eye, or slipping down into his beard. “I suppose this is more of your expertise.” 

“You’re on speaker Tony, but it’s just myself and Steve.” She tells him, brushing past the veiled insult. “Tell us what you need. That’s what this is for. Is there a mission, a threat?”

Tony’s rubs his hand against his forehead, then lowers it to take against his knee. “I need you… to find someone for me. They’re missing. They were – they were taken, captured, kidnapped, and I can’t – I’ve tried for the past two days but I can’t – _I can’t find him._ ”

“Name?”

“Peter Parker.” Tony pauses, pushes against every instinct he has, lowers his voice. “He’s also… He’s also Spiderman. From Germany.”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate. “Was he abducted as a civilian or as Spiderman?”

“Civilian. He was… he was on the way home from school.”

This time, there’s a pause. “Age?”

Tony thinks that Natasha might be asking this out of personal curiosity, rather than professional inquiry. He still answers her, even though the regret is clear in his voice. “Fifteen. Sixteen in August.” There’s an intake of breath. He can imagine it’s the Captain’s way of keeping himself from swearing, or going on some patriotic, uppity, tight-arsed rant at Tony for recruiting a teenager in a fight involving super-soldiers. Maybe the Captain has regrets of his own after _dropping an airport on a fifteen-year-old kid._

“What school does he go to?”

“Midtown School of Science and Technology, in Forrest Hills, Queens. I have…” Tony bites on his tongue to stop himself from whimpering, but his hands have started to shake again. Did they ever stop? He’s definitely having a panic attack. “We found footage of him being taken.”

“When?”

“Two days ago.”

“I’m texting you an email address, send any footage and information you have there. The name of the street he was on, his school address, his home address, anyone you think might have held a grudge against him, or be using him to get to you. We’ll need photos of him too.” There was typing in the background. For the first time, Tony wondered where the rogues might be hiding out.

“Romanoff –” He chokes. “You gotta find him, okay.”

“Tony we’ll try our best but if you haven’t been able to –”

“He’s my kid.” He interrupts her. A stunned silence follows. He doesn’t want to imagine the Captain’s face, doesn’t want to see it behind his eyes but he can’t help it. He sees the startled expression, the surprise, the confusion. He knows what he’s implying. He doesn’t want to correct it. “Please, Natasha… I’ll beg, I’ll grovel, I’ll send photos of me on my hands and knees I’ll do whatever. But he’s… he’s my kid Nat, and he’s fifteen and he’s alone and he’s probably hurt, and _they took him and I can’t find him –_ ”

“God, Tony.” Natasha’s voice is so much softer this time. There’s a desperate kind of pity underneath it, the way his name is almost a breath on her tongue. He shakes with the sob that rips through him. “You should have led with that. He’s your _kid_. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tony’s exhaling breath is a relieved shudder that runs through his entire body, wracking his chest and his throat with sobs. He had almost forgotten Natasha’s soft spot for children. For protecting them. “Thank you.” He struggles to say, without his heart bursting into a million shattered pieces. “Thank you.”

“Send us everything you have.” Steve says.

“I will.”

“Nothing too small, Tony, whatever you have.”

“I know.”

“We’ll get him back to you.”

Tony nods, and for once in his life he doesn’t mind Steve’s steadfast appetite for optimism. He needs it right now. He’s practically living for it. After a second he realises they can’t see him, and mutters again, “Thank you.”

The phone clicks off without an official farewell from the two parties. Tony doesn’t need that. He knows they don’t either. He instructs F.R.I.D.A.Y to send everything they’ve found on Peter’s disappearance to the email address they’ve sent him – all the footage, all the street names of the roads the car went down, the exact pinpoint of the last bit of footage they have of it rolling into the distant darkness, as well as anything else they asked for, and at least ten photos of Peter from different angles to help them identify him.

And then he goes upstairs, sits quietly with his arm around May, and Pepper leaning on his other side with Rhodey and Happy opposite, and waits.

…

Four more terrifyingly quiet days go by, and it’s the middle of the night but Pepper is shaking him awake. It’s the first time he’s slept longer than half an hour for the last week. He almost bats her away, forgetting his reality for one blissful second, before he shoots straight upwards in bed and almost knocks her out.

“Pepper what’s –”

“There’s a Quinjet approaching, F.R.I.D.A.Y just asked for permission to let it land –”

Tony is out of bed in a millisecond, stumbling towards the door. Thank God he’s still wearing clothes from the day before, his t-shirt and jeans rumpled with the small amount of restless sleep he was able to get. “F.R.I.D.A.Y –”

“It is most definitely the Rogues, Boss, I have been able to identify Miss Romanoff at the controls. They will be landing in one minute and twenty-six seconds, or less.” His AI says dutifully, as they rush upwards towards the landing deck. Pepper informs him that Happy is already retrieving Rhodey from bed. May returned to her apartment yesterday, so they’ll have to call her, if… if…

“Is he – is the kid –”

“The Quinjet is advanced, an altered version of SHIELD’s technology, I am not able to scan the individuals inside or retrieve their identities. I can however tell you that there seem to be a total of six heat signatures on board.”

Tony pulled open the balcony doors, leading onto the landing deck, as Pepper questions. “Six?”

“Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, Maximoff. They might have roped in Barton. If Vision is there, he won’t have a heat signature.” Tony rattles off, as they storm onto the outside desk. The Quinjet looms above them, coming in for landing. “They better not be stupid enough to bring Barnes.” The thought makes his windpipe close up, and black spots are suddenly dancing in his vision. He’s trying to shield Pepper from the harshness of the wind the Quinjet is creating around them, but she still hangs onto him tight, nose pressed into his neck.

“It’s going to be okay, whatever they know whatever they say it’s going to be alright.” She tells him.

The Quinjet sets down on the tarmac. There is a moment of no movement. The aircraft is still, and Tony and Pepper are frozen on their feet, watching and waiting for any hint of a glimpse of someone they know.

And then there is a methodical, metal grating as the back of the Quinjet detaches one of its pieces, flipping down to reveal the entrance into the back of the aircraft, the machinery lowering itself to serve as a ramp. Tony can see Rogers – and the black spots continue to dance – and Romanoff beside him, her arms crossed. They walk a few steps down as the ramp hits the ground. She juts her head at him, her lips tugging slightly to the side. She almost seems happy to see him. And standing just behind them is Wilson, and then Barton, and Barton has a smaller statue of a boy resting against his arm.

“ _Peter_.” The boy’s name expelling itself from Tony’s mouth is an involuntary action, a scream that rips through his heart and up his throat, and then his feet are pounding across the tarmac. He runs towards the Quinjet and meets them halfway up the ramp. Rogers and Romanoff and Wilson have stepped to the side and Tony has barely looked at Peter or any of them before he pulls the young boy into his arms and begins to sob into his hair.

Barton steps away, and Peter is shuddering against his chest, arms wounding around Tony’s waist with a ferocity the younger boy does not often show. They do not say anything, only each other’s names, as they hold each other and let loose their tears. Tony’s legs are weak but he pulls back first to examine his kid. _His kid. Here. Safe._

“God Peter, are you alright are you hurt shit _Peter_ where the hell did you never mind that’s not important I’ve never been so scared are you okay god I’m so glad you’re okay –”

Peter smiles up at him, brightly despite the tears pouring down his face and the bruise across his cheek, not to mention the gash on his forehead and the cut through his eyebrow and the other on his lip. He’s still wearing the clothes he was wearing in the footage, a significantly dirtier version of a science-pun t-shirt and jeans. He goes to speak but seems to think better of interrupting Tony during a panic-induced rant, and so only leans forwards and rests his head back against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony grasps at him with all his might. “ _I love you Peter; I love you so much._ ” He whispers into Peter’s matted mop of curls, finally speaking the words that had been keeping him up for the past six nights.

_What if he’d never got the chance to tell Peter he loved him._

“I love you too.” Peter mumbles against his chest, and Tony can feel the younger’s boy tears wetting his neck. He grips Peter tighter as his heart cracks in two, and then three and then four and then a thousand thousand pieces as he holds his kid against his chest and weeps, the relief of holding Peter in his arms again almost unbearable. “I love you.”

“I love you so much kid. I’ve never been so scared.” Tony whispers while pressing kisses to Peter’s hair, his forehead, his cheek. Peter stays tucked against him and accepts each kiss of affection gladly, now grasping Tony’s t-shirt between his hands. “You know how to give your old man a heart attack, don’t you. Let’s get you inside okay, Dr Cho has been called so we need to get you into the med bay –”

“I’m not hurt.” Peter says, shaking his head but letting Tony lead him down the steps. He’s limping a little. Pepper is waiting for them at the bottom. She grabs Peter in her arms and murmurs again and again how happy she is to see him. “I’m really not hurt. Tony… I’m okay, I mean it.”

Tony’s heart is pounding, reaching towards Peter, wanting to keep him within arms-length. “You’ve got bruises and scrapes and cuts all over your face and you’re limping –”

“That was just during the fight, on the way out.” Peter tells him, returning from Pepper’s arms to Tony’s side when Tony’s entire body tenses. “It’s only superficial, my healing will fix it in less than a couple hours. It’s already better than when we left. They didn’t hurt me. I promise. I just… I want to stay with you now. No med bay.”

“Fight? What fight?” Tony’s gaze shoots up and he looks frantically at Natasha. Really looks at her, this time. Sees the new blondeness of her hair, the smile lifting her face as she contemplates the way Peter’s head is tucked under Tony’s chin, the way her arms are crossed though her stance is not defensive. “Where –”

“A Hydra base.” She tells him, her voice low against the whistle of the wind. Tony had entirely forgotten they were outdoors, high above the ground. He pulls Peter closer as Natasha’s words sink it. He can tell that she’s observing him, _them_. Figuring them out. “An underground bunker in the middle of nowhere. You were right to call us Tony. We’ve been staking them out for months. We had existing information on the base, helped us get in and out without too much difficulty. A little bit of a fight, but nothing too bad.”

“Oh god… kid –”

“I’m okay.”” Peter whispers, seeing the new wave of panic settle over Tony’s expression. “I’m not hurt. They didn’t hurt me. They didn’t do much of anything, really. They observed me. I think… I think they might have been waiting for someone to arrive, before they… really did anything, to me. And I knew you’d be coming for me soon enough.”

Tony tries to rationalise that. He leans his forehead down against Peter’s and takes a deep breath. He can’t help but smile when Peter nudges against him a little, rubbing their foreheads together in some strange version of an eskimo-kiss.

Peter isn’t hurt. Peter isn’t injured. _Peter isn’t hurt. Peter isn’t injured._

_Peter is alive._

_He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive._

_And he knows that Tony loves him._

“Okay, okay, okay.” Tony thinks if he says the word enough times, he might actually feel it. He pitches backwards, but not too far. His hands are still on Peter’s shoulders. “We need… let’s get inside, let’s get you warmed up, and in some new clothes and cleaned up and _fed_ god I can practically feel your ribs so let’s go right ahead and order a ton of pizza and we can talk and you’re still gonna need to see Dr Cho even if you don’t go to the med bay –”

“Okay.” Peter says with a soft smile, and Tony leans down and kisses the boy’s forehead again, because he can, _just because he can_ , and begins to lead him inside.

Then he pauses, realising his mistake, and he turns around.

The Rogues are still watching them from the ramp of the Quinjet. Natasha and Rogers are sporting sad smiles, watching Tony and his kid with bemused, possibly confused, fondness. They whisper something to each other when Tony turns around. Wilson is stood at Rogers shoulder, arms crossed. He appears satisfied, a soldier who has completed his mission successfully and is ready to return home. Barton is next to Natasha, and he’s very clearly looking down at the way Peter is resting on Tony’s chest, completely at ease. Tony is slammed with the reminder that Barton has been away from his own children for a long time now.

Behind them, Maximoff and Vision are turning back into the Quinjet. Wilson senses the movement and turns to follow. Peter gazes up at Tony, “I thought… After everything that happened… Why did you ask them to find me?”

Tony swallows the lump in his throat. “Because I knew they could, and that’s all that really mattered.” He hands Peter to Pepper and stalks across the tarmac, already feeling the separation anxiety crawling along his skin once Peter is behind him and out of his direct sight. Rogers has the nerve to raise an eyebrow at him approaching. “Inside, all of you.” The billionaire orders. “We gotta talk.”

They seem surprised, but not unpleasantly so. In fact Romanoff and Rogers look something akin to hopeful. Barton is the one to step closer, a distrustful glint in his eye. “You got some Shield agents in there, Stark? Ready to take us back to the Raft?” The fondness in the archer’s eye is gone now that he’s facing Tony rather than Peter. 

“Clint…” Natasha steps up, admonishing her friend, but her eyes flick towards the Tower.

Tony grinds his teeth together, shakes his head. He steels himself and finally meets Rogers’ eye, squashing down the panic in his chest and the pounding of his heart as he meets the gaze of the man who left him, dying, in Siberia. The man who protected his parent’s murderer. He squashes it down – for Peter. “You brought my kid home.” He says quietly. “So, no Shield agents today.”

Steve smiles. Tony bites back a snarky retort. “He seems like a great kid.”

Tony looks back. Peter is tucked under Pepper’s arm, watching Tony with the rogues, head cocked to the side. The panic in Tony’s chest subsides at the mop of brown curls, the long eyelashes, the lips twisted with worry. Peter had only just returned home from being abducted by agents of Hydra, and he was worried for Tony. “He’s the best kid in the whole world.” 

“A lot has changed for you, since we last saw each other.”

“I suppose it has.” Tony taps his watch. “F.R.I.D.A.Y are we go?”

“Quinjet disabled.” The AI responds automatically, and Tony watches as the Rogues startle, their eyes blowing wide as they spin towards the Quinjet and watch the control panel go dark. Wanda and Vision return, seemingly confused and holding hands. _Huh_ , Tony thinks, _that’s new. Makes sense, kind of._

“There, now you have to come inside.” Tony doesn’t give them a chance to respond. He walks away, not even halfway back to the Tower entrance before his arms are outstretched to receive Peter back into his hold, and trusts that his old teammates will follow.

…

At first, Tony refuses to leave Peter’s side. Pepper gets the Rogues (looking supremely uncomfortable both under her glare, and to be back in the Tower) settled, whilst Tony reunites Peter with May, with Rhodey and with Happy. He sits outside the door as Peter showers, waits with his back turned as Peter dresses, and by the time they return to the living space a mass amount of pizza has arrived, and he supervises as Peter eats four slices before the young vigilante is falling asleep. They’ve barely spoken, but refuse to be separated. Tony carries him to bed, and has to swallow the lump in his throat before leaving the unconscious spider-kid under May’s watchful eye.

Rhodey is waiting outside the door. “Ready?”

Tony scoffs, almost attempting to form a humorous response before the crushing feeling his chest stops him. “No.” He says honestly. “Not at all, but they brought Peter home… They brought him home, Rhodey, when I couldn’t.” His nose scrunches, his chin wobbling as he lets out a shaky breath. “He’s home. He’s home and he’s safe and that’s all that matters. And they –”

“Still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” Rhodey interrupted.

“I never said I was giving it to them.” Tony shrugs. “But they still saved Peter. I think this is as good of a starting point as we’re ever going to get.”

Rhodey smiles sadly, claps his shoulder and follows him back into the living room, a silent support system that Tony has never been more grateful for in his entire life – this entire week has proved how much he does not deserve James Rhodes, and Tony has never once believed in a God but he still mutters a pray of thanks for the people he’s had stood with him this week.

This devastating, heart-shattering, worst-in-his-life week.

Pepper and Happy have left, leaving them to it. Rogers and Barton stand when Tony and Rhodey approach, watching warily. Romanoff and Wilson do not, but Wilson’s eyes flick to the quiet whirring of Rhodey’s leg braces. “Rhodes –”

“I don’t think this is the time.” Rhodey interrupts, sensing what the other man was going to say, or begin to apologise for. “And there isn’t anything to discuss.” 

“There’s plenty to discuss.” Tony corrects, tucking his tired body into the corner seat of the couch. They’re all watching him. He leans his head back against the cushions and closes his eyes, blocking out their stares and letting the exhaustion wash over him for one, long moment. “But not that. Just be glad his best friend is a tech genius.” His head rolls to the side, blearily opening his eyes again. 

Steve and Barton lower themselves back into their seats. “Is Peter alright?” Barton was the one to ask, eyes flicking to where Tony had carried to sleeping boy away to.

Tony’s heart cracks a little more, if that’s even possible, as the pain of this entire experience whooshes through him. “His bruises and gashes have healed right up, and he’s stopped limping. He’s got incredible healing abilities, if - if you hadn’t noticed, before. Dr Cho will check him over tomorrow but physically he’s fine.” The words, _emotionally, mentally, we’ll just have to wait and see_ , went unsaid.

There was a moment of silence. Everybody simply stared at each other, two sides of the same fight, brought back together by a kid who wears t-shirts with science puns on them, who has excellent manners and a bottomless appetite, and says he isn’t hurt even when he is. “So… Peter.” Natasha says quietly.

Tony nods. “Peter.”

“You have a _kid_ , Tony.”

“I suppose I do.” They’re all staring at him, expecting more. He hadn’t wanted to give too much away. Not this early on, but they’re so far down the rabbit hole now. “Peter isn’t my biological child, I should, you know, clarify. We met shortly before what happened in Germany. After that we grew close, really close. He started off by spending the odd afternoon in the labs with me. He’s incredibly smart – like, he comes up with things I never would have thought of and he’s top of all his classes at a certified school for geniuses. We would work on our suits together. Come up for new ideas for Spiderman. Then he was spending the odd evening here as well, staying for dinner and getting to know Pepper, then he would stay the night… now he’s here at least twice or three times in the week after school and sleeps over every other weekend, more if May is on night shift at the hospital.

I took him to Disney during his Christmas break, and he and his Aunt had Christmas dinner here. They spent New Year here, too. It was quiet, you know… just us, just family. I help him with his homework and he talks to me about girls – well, one girl in particular. They go to school together, it’s all very sweet. And we’re going to build a car together this summer so it’s ready for his sixteenth birthday. He calls Rhodey and Happy his Uncles and he calls me Dad when he’s sleepy, but I don’t think he realises it.” Tony’s rambling. He stops and takes a breath, hands twisting in his lip. “He’s my kid, in everything but blood.”

“Tony. I think we both know blood doesn’t mean anything.” Natasha says. “He’s your son, isn’t he.”

Tony blinks back tears. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Tony doesn’t know whether the tears are from the panic in his chest, the conversation he knows he needs to have with them, or the words coming out of his mouth. It’s probably both. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. If he had… if anything had happened, if they had –”

Rhodey shifts closer. “Don’t think about that, Tony. He’s home, he’s okay.”

Tony nods, working to see the rationale in Rhodey’s words. He thinks of Peter, sleeping in the room down the hall, and steels himself. “We need to talk about the Accords.” He says. His teeth might be gritted together, but he says it. “About everything that happened, about where you guys have been and what we’re going to do now.” The room goes still. “Look, you’re all here, aren’t you. You brought my kid home. This is as good as a starting point as we’re ever going to get. I want to make this work. Are you up for that or not.”

Steve shifts in his seat, perching forwards. “We’ve been following the revision of the Accords.” He tells Tony. He wouldn’t have expected anything less. “They’ve… improved, we admit.”

“And who do you think did that?” Tony says dryly, rolling his eyes. He can’t help the sarcasm that seeps his voice. “The first version of the Accords always needed amendments, I tried to tell you that. Honestly, it still isn’t entirely done. There are parts that I’m still pushing the Senate and the UN on.” 

“Such as?”

Tony sees the way they are staring at him. They’re attentive, finally ready to listen to what he has to say, so with only a little hesitation he launches into his assessment of the Accords – what’s already been changed, the improvements that have been made, what’s he managed to win them over to, but also the parts that still need work, the ones the UN is most likely to give way to and what they are still resisting. He’s been busy, there’s a lot to share, but the Rogues give him the time and pitch in when they have questions.

He stills sees the shady, sideways looks between Rogers and Wilson when they clearly disagree with something, when Tony is honest about the freedoms they would need to give up. Wanda and Vision are whispering to one another. “You can’t have everything.” He tells them pointedly.

“And this has worked for you, so far?”

“I’m still sat here aren’t I? And the world hasn’t fallen to pieces.”

He wonders what they are each thinking. They aren’t giving much away. Natasha is paying him little attention, watching the others instead. Vision and Wanda could not seem less interested – Tony briefly thinks this is unusual for Vision, given his vast knowledge and previous habit of jumping in on conversations. Wilson doesn’t look particularly happy but then again he’s still eyeing Rhodey’s leg braces. Barton is expressionless.

Rogers nods as he contemplates all that Tony has said. He brushes down one leg of his suit, clasps his hands together and says, “I suppose we’ll think about it.”

Tony’s stomach plummets. “Think about it? What’s there to think about?”

“Tony –”

“See the thing is you’ve got two choices, boys and girls.” Tony interrupts, trying to ignore the bastardly thumping of his heart against his ribs as the panic rises. It’s happening again – they’re leaving, _again_. “You either head back into the wilderness to God knows where you’ve been hiding out, continue your wonderful little off-the-grid vacation with the UN and the Senate running after you not to mention whoever else is after your blood, cause don’t for one minute think they’ve stopped searching for you.”

Natasha and Barton share a sharp look. “Tony –”

“ _Or –_ ” Tony insists, raising his voice as he continues. “Or you stay here, and I will fight your corner with the UN, and we can amend the Accords together. We can make them something we can actually be united under, _together_.”

“Stark –”

“ _Don’t_.” Tony points a finger at Steve but he knows it’s shaking. His voice is too. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, even as he fights against it. “After everything you did, after everything you’ve done to me, and my friends, even after Germany and Siberia and despite the fact your best friend _murdered by parents_ , I’m still willing to fight your corner. _So for the love of God take it.”_

Steve’s face drops, and his Adam’s apple bobs for a moment. He has the decency to look ashamed of himself. “I cannot undo the decisions I made.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” Tony snarls.

“Stark it’s complicated –”

“For fuck’s sake Rogers. For once in your life would you just –”

“Tony?”

…

The engineer’s head snaps up in an instant. Peter is hovering at the door, watching the adults argue with wide eyes. Peter slowly moves his gaze from Tony to Steve, and there’s a twitch in his cheek that suggests anger. He doesn’t say anything more, just watches them.

Tony begins to stumble to his feet, but Peter is already walking across the room towards him so Tony slumps back down and watches Peter approach. “Kid what are you doing awake? Where’s your aunt, is everything okay, are you in pain?”

“I just woke up, don’t worry I’m not in pain.” Peter appeases. “May’s still asleep and I wanted to let her rest. I was coming to find you.” He ignores the Rogues and walks around the sofa. He crawls right over Tony, their limbs knocking together, and wedges himself into the non-existent gap between the back of the sofa and Tony’s side, his head coming to rest just beside the arc reactor in Tony’s chest. He sighs with contentment as he settles down, ignoring the baffled expressions of the Rogues. “Then I saw Pepper in the hallway and she told me to come save you.”

Tony doesn’t even blink at the intrusion of his personal space, but there are tears in his eyes as he chuckles at Peter’s admission, his vision suddenly glassy with the blurriness. His chest is still rising and falling a little too quickly, but he pulls Peter in as tight as he can and wraps his arms around the boy. “Good job.” He whispers. “I’m saved.”

Peter hums happily, shifting ever closer. “What are you arguing about?”

“Not arguing bambino, just talking shop. Adult stuff.”

“Don’t stop on my account. I’m an adult.”

“Like hell you are, _kid_.”

“You’d call me kid even if I were eighty-three. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t eighty-three, you’re fifteen.”

“Are you talking about Germany?” Peter peers up and narrows his eyes when he hears Tony’s heart skip a beat. “That’s a yes.” Winding his arms around Tony’s waist he turns towards the Rogues, and finds that all of them, even Wanda and Vision, are openly staring at the way his leg is steadily entangling itself with Tony’s. “Don’t think for one moment that just because you got me away from those underground weirdo’s, I like any of you. Especially you, _Rogers_.”

“Pete –” Tony tries to interject.

Steve winces at the venom in Peter’s words. “Noted.”

Peter slowly lets his head drift back down to relax on Tony’s chest, eyes still narrowed. “Go on then. Talk shop.”

Tony sighs. “Kid, you gotta go rest.”

“I am resting.”

“No, Pete. You need to go back to bed and sleep, _properly_. You’ve been through some shit; your body needs to heal and you need to let it.” Tony runs a hand through Peter’s curls and smiles when the teen pushes back into his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.”

“Are you going to stay with me?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes –”

“I’m not going until you’re done talking. I’m not leaving you alone with them.”

“Peter –”

“ _No_.” Peter snaps, and Tony raises an eyebrow at the outburst. Peter glares at him, not giving up. “I’m not leaving you with them. Not after what they did to you, not after they betrayed you and hurt you and left you alone.”

Tony’s eyes soften, even as the others in the room shift uncomfortably, feeling the responsibility of their actions and the blame they are being placed under settle on their shoulders. “Peter, I’m safe here.” He says gently. “No one’s going to hurt me. You know that, right?”

“He almost killed you. In Siberia.”

Tony pushes out a ragged breath, ignores the pain in his head and the blanched whiteness of Steve’s face and the way Natasha flinches and the way Vision leans just a little bit away from Wanda as if this is a conversation they’d had before, and pushes himself up the sofa to sit a little straighter, dragging Peter with him.

He feels the irony in the situation. Peter, who had just returned from a one-week stint as a prisoner of Hydra, singularly concerned about whether Tony is or is not safe – or safe _enough_ in their own home. It should absolutely be the other way around. He can’t believe he’s even letting Peter be in the same room as these people. Or, more accurately, letting them be in the same room as Peter.

“We’re not in Siberia now, kid. It’s been a long time, and that was... complicated. And they brought you home to me, so I can try move past everything else, if only just a little bit.”

“You shouldn’t. And I heard what you said before too, so ‘complicated’ can fuck off.”

Tony chuckles. “You’re so bloody stubborn.”

“May says I get it from you.”

Tony bursts out laughing, chest racked with mirth for once instead of panic or dread or guilt, and Peter grins wolfishly up at him, anger momentarily forgotten. The rogues seem fascinated by their dynamic. Barton’s lips curl upwards in amusement. Tony wonders for a second if the archer is thinking of his own children.

Even Rhodey shakes his head and smiles. “She’s right.” He says. “You two couldn’t be more alike if you tried. You know Pete, you’re the spitting imagine of Tony when he was your age. You look just like him.”

Peter practically beams. “I do?”

“Yeah, he was fifteen when he started MIT, and that’s when we met. I’ll show you the photos if you like, I got a whole bunch of them.”

“I’d like that.” Peter says. “But not until you’re done talking shop.”

Tony and Rhodey groan in unison. “Damn. Thought he’d got you there.”

“Nice try, capitalizing on our relationship. Brutal, but smart.” Peter smirks, and Tony groans a second time at the distinct feeling of Peter’s webs forming between his own shirt and the boy’s hands. He moves slightly, but Peter doesn’t budge, doesn’t slip away, just remains attached, grinning with pride. He had made Peter put on his web-shooters when he’d got changed, and was now regretting the decision.

“Really Peter? Sticking yourself to my shirt? New low.”

Peter turns on the puppy-dog eyes, his gaze turned upwards and making it all the worse for Tony. “Don’t be mad. I wanna stay with you.”

“You’re a pain.”

“Yeah but I’m cute so it’s fine.”

“This isn’t a conversation for teenagers.”

“Probably isn’t a conversation for you either then.”

“Son I understand you want to be involved –” Steve makes the mistake of trying to interject.

Peter’s eyes snap to him. “Oh no, absolutely not.” He snorts. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Steve halts, mouth snapping shut.

“You don’t get to call me _son_ as if you’re some kind of reverent figure in my life.” Peter stresses, furious fire suddenly alight in his eyes. Tony winces. He should have seen this coming. “You don’t get to address me so casually like your opinion actually matters even a little bit. And don’t sit there and act all high and mighty like you ‘understand’. Like I said, you might have got me out of that hellhole, but it doesn’t mean I forgive a single thing you did to Tony.”

“I didn’t mean to overstep –”

“As for being _involved_ , I think you involved me when you went ahead and dropped an _airport_ on my head. So let’s keep the patronising bullshit to a minimum, alright Capsicle?” Peter finishes, smiling sweetly, sarcastically. He sits up, taking his hands off from Tony’s waist to cross his arms, but leaves their legs entangled. Steve stares and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t seem able to form a response.

Natasha smirks at Tony. “He really is your son.”

Tony feels his chest swell with pride. “He really is.” Peter snorts, but the response makes him blush.

Natasha eyes them for a moment more before turning to Steve. “I think we should stay.” She says. The hopeful look in her eye is back. “We’ve been running for too long, Steve, and we have so much information on the few Hydra bases that remain. We know whose trustworthy. We know who we can take the information to.” She smiles, a little sadly. “It’s time we were a team again.”

“I agree.”

Tony’s head whips around to stare at Wanda. Vision looks pleased from beside her. Of all people – “Really?”

She scoffs. “It is not on your account, Stark.” She looks a little too long at Peter for Tony’s liking before she continues. “Natasha is right, we have been running for too long. I would like to come home. And I know you would too, Cap.”

Steve’s lips are taunt, but he’s nodding. “Barton?”

Clint turns to Tony. “How soon could I see my kids?” He asks, quietly. Tony can tell that the other man is trying not to get his hopes up, doesn’t dare to hope the way the others might be. He has too much to lose. “Do you think you could convince the UN to let me go home?”

“I’ll make it my first priority.” Tony vows. He pulls Peter a little closer, seeing Barton’s eyes linger, knowing that the father-of-three recognises the action. “No one should be kept away from their kid Barton; I know that better now.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “You fought to bring my kid back to me. I’ll fight to get you back to yours if you give me the chance.”

Barton gives him a nod, a one-sided lift of his lips. “Where do I sign?” He says.

Steve looks around his teammates. Tony holds his breath. “I suppose we’re staying then.” He says, and Tony lets his head fall back, relief coursing through his blood. Rhodey claps his shoulder. Natasha smiles at him. “We’d have our own conditions though.” Steve continues. “Things we would want brought to the attention of the UN, the Senate. Things we aren’t willing to give up.”

“You aren’t so great at the compromising thing, are you Brooklyn.” Peter mumbles. He’s slipped down Tony’s side, eyes heavy and closing. Tony scoffs, running his hand through Peter’s curls.

Steve actually smiles at the response. “No, I suppose I’m not.” Then adds, lightly. “Queens.”

Tony gazes at Peter fondly for a moment, relishing the weight of the teen on his side, before addressing Steve. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less, but the kid’s right. You’re going to have to be willing to compromise. Or they will come for you again. I’ll fight as much as I can, but even I have my limits.”

“Understood. And I’m willing to try.” Tony hopes that Steve is telling the truth. “What would the next step be?”

“Sleep.” Tony says immediately. “I think we all need to get some sleep, and then confer in the morning.” He tugs at Peter’s hands, and the kid grumbles. “I need to get a certain Spiderling to bed before his aunt finds him gone. Eh, bud?”

Peter curls in closer. “So that’s it? All sorted, all friends and the whatnot?”

Tony rolls his eyes at the kid’s blunt approach. “We’re certainly a step nearer bambino. Now for the love of God de-web yourself from my shirt so I can get your scrawny ass to bed. May will have my brains for breakfast if you aren’t there when she wakes up, and my brains are far too valuable to risk.”

Peter snorts but doesn’t retort his claims, and Tony feels the slick glide of the webs retracting themselves – a new design. “Okay Dad.”

“Okay son.” Tony whispers teasingly back, and then slides off the coach, ignoring the way his knees click and the niggling anxiety at the back of his mind that the Rogues will be boarding their jet within three minutes of him leaving the room. He begins to pull Peter up and addresses everyone else in the meantime. “You know where your rooms are. Nothing’s moved. The Quinjet’s been hidden. If you need anything, ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. Shall we say ten am for discussions, at the breakfast table? We can order in. Don’t think I have enough for everyone in the fridge.”

“Thank you Tony.” Natasha says, emphasising the words. She looks relieved. Her body has relaxed against the cushions and her eyes seem brighter than before. Tired, but bright. Perhaps it’s the thought of reuniting Clint with his children – who Tony knows Natasha loves almost as her own.

Peter had climbed to his feet and was now leaning against Tony’s side, practically an identical-but-vertical version of the way they had snuggled together on the couch, with his eyes shut. He barely seemed conscious. Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders, tucking him in close. “Likewise.” He says tightly. “For everything.” Natasha nods once. “Come on kid. Bedtime.”

“’kay Dad.” Peter mumbles, following Tony out of the room, and no one, not even Wilson, could stop a small smile from creeping onto their face at the innocence and love Tony’s son clearly had for his father. Things really had changed.

Tony only chuckles and guides him along. He catches Steve’s eye on the way out and the two men share a silent look of understanding. _Truce, for now._ It’s still going to take some time for the sight of the man not to make Tony’s heart feel five seconds from collapsing, but it’s a start.

It’s a good start.

…

“You gotta stay with us.” Peter whispers as he crawls into bed. He ducks under the duvet, but continues to hold it up, looking meaningfully at Tony. May is still asleep in the armchair. “Come on. You promised.”

Tony watches with amusement for a second, but he can’t say no to a face like that. He climbs under the covers of Peter’s bed, getting cosy before Peter shuffles up to his side, leaning his head on Tony’s shoulder as he always does. Tony holds him close, turning slightly so he can kiss the top of Peter’s head. “I love you kid.” He whispers. He’s determined to tell Peter he loves him a hundred times a day from now on.

“I love you too.” Peter whispers back. He tilts his head to look up at Tony. “Dad.” Tony grins at the name, but it dampers quickly. Peter notices immediately. “Are you okay? I thought you did really well with Rogers and, you know, all of them.”

“Thanks bambino. I’m okay. I’m just –” Peter knows Tony well enough to recognise when his anxiety is spiking, and begins tapping his fingers on Tony’s arm, creating a sensation his father-figure can focus on. “I was really scared.”

“I mean. He tried to kill you.”

“No, no not of Rogers.” Tony’s eyes are wet. He tries to convince the tears to hold. But he thinks of the boy at his side and they start to slip. “You. Losing you. That’s what I was scared about. Peter this whole week… you being gone, not being able to find you –”

“I’m okay Dad.” Peter says quietly, and even in his panic Tony doesn’t miss the way that Peter is calling him ‘Dad’ even though he decidedly awake right now. Not sleepy at all. “I’m really okay. You found me. I’m safe. I knew you would. I never doubted you.”

“I know kiddo, but we’re still gonna have to – we’re gonna have to talk about it, more, tomorrow. We can arrange for you to have some therapy sessions, like you did after the Vulture. And Dr Cho still needs to complete your medical, just to be sure.”

“It’s fine –”

“No, Pete, it isn’t.” Tony says gently, and Peter ducks his gaze to avoid Tony’s eye roaming over him. “It’s my job to look after you, mine and May’s. Let us do our job. You were gone a week. And you don’t have to tell me about it now but I doubt there wasn’t a point in all of that, that you weren’t just a bit scared.”

Peter’s hands have wrapped themselves in Tony’s shirt, fingers clenching and unclenching methodically. “I knew you would come for me.” He says eventually, quietly.

Tony’s heart tightens painfully. “I always will, _tesoro_. I always will. There’s nothing in the whole wide world that would keep me from you. You know that, right?”

Peter nods. “I still think you did good, with the Rogues.”

Tony accepts that Peter wants to change the conversation, and scoffs. May shifts in her sleep and they both pause, watching the nurse, before Tony responds, lowering his voice. “Half of me thinks they’re going to run off in the middle of the night and I’m going to be left with a mess.” He admits. “The other half of me hopes they do run off, and then I won’t have to talk to them tomorrow.”

“Barton wants to be back with his kids, I don’t think he’ll give up that opportunity now you’ve offered him it. And Natasha won’t leave him.” Peter points out. His eyes are slipping shut again. “That’s at least two of them you know will still be here in the morning.”

“True.”

“Natasha seems nice. Deadly, but nice.”

“An accurate summary.”

Peter peers up at him. “Don’t leave during the night, okay.”

Tony winds both of his arms around his son, pulling him as close as possible. Peter smiles with the motion, the relief clear on his face. _His son._ “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks.” Peter pauses. “Is it…” Tony waits. He knows what’s coming. He’s waited long enough. Months, even. He can wait a second more. “Is it okay if I call you, um, what I called you before? You know… You know what I mean. Would you mind if I called you that, instead of Tony.”

God. The wait was worth it.

Tony pushes Peter’s hair from his forehead, the gesture affectionate, and smiles down at the boy looking so hopefully back up at him. “Kid I would love if you called me that. You can call me that as much as you like, every day, every minute.”

Peter beams. He hugs so close to Tony he’s practically on top of the older man. “I love you Dad.”

Tony’s eyes are wet again. It’s for a different reason this time. A happier one. “I love you too kid.”

…

When May wakes the next morning, it is with a gnawing panic in her chest, which whooshes out when she spots the mess of limbs in the bed next to her. She can’t help but smile at the way she can barely distinguish between Tony and Peter, who are so meshed together, the duvet half thrown off, arms and legs akimbo.

They’re both fast asleep, so she takes a sly photo and creeps out of the room. She only peers back for a second, heart soft and sad as she admires the duo and the way they’re holding each other as if their lives depend on it.

After Ben died, she had worried Peter would never have another father-figure in his life. Someone he could share his passions with when May simply couldn’t hold up to the brilliance of Peter’s brain, someone to teach him about cars and science and technology and girls. Watching his chest rise and fall with sleep, hair mussed over his face and arm strewn across the waist of Tony Stark, (not to mention the protective grip Tony had on Peter) May realises she never has to worry about that again.

And if that means she has to share him, so be it.

So she takes one more photo, closes the door, and walks towards the kitchen. She stretches as she goes, and thinks about what cereal she wants for breakfast, what she’s going to do with her morning. She has a couple of rogues to thank, but also threaten.

Rogers dropped an airport on their kid, after all.


End file.
